


What We Are

by Maniac_Elle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Angst, Friendship, Hetalia Kink Meme, Love, M/M, Mutant Powers, Romance, Slow Build, Sorry!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maniac_Elle/pseuds/Maniac_Elle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are mutants, first and foremost, but they are still teenage boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Hetalia Kink Meme asking for a [X-Men AU](http://hetalia-kink.dreamwidth.org/84399.html?thread=511049903#cmt511049903) fic.

**What We Are**

"I don't understand," Alfred says. "Why are they like this?"

"Why shouldn't they be?" Arthur asks. "Look at what we're capable of. Look at the terrible things we've done."

"That wasn't us."

"It was our kind. They hold us all accountable for the sins of our species."

"Don't say species, like we're not all human."

"We're not. We're _evolved_ ," Arthur says with a scoff.

"You sound like _him_."

"Braginski? I'm not. He relishes being one of us; I want to be one of them."

"Arthur," Alfred whispers, turning to him with those big blue eyes. He reaches over and Arthur instinctively snatches his hands back.

"You have your gloves on."

"Yes, well, that doesn't mean you should still try to touch me."

"I want to touch you."

"Don't say that. I hate when you say that."

"I like you."

"Don't say that either."

"But-"

Arthur abruptly stands up and strides from the common room.

Alfred stares at the doorway long after he's left. On the TV the news displays the anti-Mutant demonstrations raging across the world.

#

Arthur Kirkland had disliked Alfred F. Jones on sight. He'd strutted into Vargas' School for Gifted Youngsters with a toothpaste advert smile and the easy confidence of the jock he was and instantly enamoured half the student body. It took him all of two days to acclimate to the new life, to make friends, to find his place within a house of outsiders. In no time at all life before Alfred was unimaginable.

Arthur, though, couldn't stand him. His oh-so-mysterious past became the topic of gossip and rumours flew around in classrooms and during lunch and then again over foosball in the common room – he'd been mobbed by Friends of Humanity, no, no, it was Sentinels and he defeated them, actually he was head-hunted by the Brotherhood of Mutants but turned them down, nah, what really happened was – until Arthur fled to the library to lose himself in the classics. And as if listening to speculation wasn't bad enough, Arthur had to deal with the real thing in more than half his subjects and then again in their dorm room where Alfred neighboured in the bed beside his own.

It came to him on a sunny afternoon (courtesy of Elizabeta) that he hated Alfred. Arthur sat under a tree, _The Hobbit_ in hand and sipping at his flask of tea, until a thunderous crash ripped through the silence.

He leapt to his feet, body tuned to a flight response. Then he saw the destroyed grand piano with Roderich trapped beneath and Gilbert off to the side unmoving. Arthur raced towards them as Alfred sprinted from the opposite of the field. Alfred reached them first and heaved the piano away as if it was made of air. Arthur joined them as Alfred tossed the remaining debris aside to find Roderich crying out in pain.

"I've got you dude," Alfred said and knelt beside him. "Where are you hurt?"

Arthur left them and dropped beside a groaning Gilbert.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did it hit you too?"

"No, I fell on top and smacked my skull. Hurts like a bitch."

"On top? Did you teleport a fucking grand piano to crush Roderich?"

"What? Nein, I miscalculated. I wanted to land it in front of him and make him piss himself."

"Lovely."

Blood dribbled down the side of Gilbert's head.

"You're bleeding," Arthur said and pointed to his wound.

Before his hand came close to meeting skin, Gilbert jerked backwards. "What the hell?"

Arthur slumped back on his heels, his stomach knotting. "I wasn't going to touch you."

"You could have slipped."

"I'm wearing gloves. I'm always wearing gloves."

"You weren't when you nearly killed Feli."

Arthur's insides twisted. He remembered Feli collapsing to the ground, wings convulsing, breath harsh and gasping. "He touched me," Arthur whispered, his voice cracking. "That wasn't my fault."

"What about that dude back in England?"

Arthur recoiled as if he'd been slapped. Gilbert had no right to talk about Naveen, no right to talk about something he knew nothing about. "Fuck you," he snapped, his voice brittle. He stormed away, a thick lump clogging his throat and his fingers clutching the hem of his shirt. As he passed Alfred he found the American staring at him, eyes wide and mouth dumbly open.

Arthur said nothing and returned to collect his things under the tree. On the field more people had arrived to praise Alfred for his quick actions, to cheer him on for saving Roderich's life.

Arthur realised he hated Alfred. He hated him because he was tall and handsome and charismatic. He hated him because he had powers that could save lives instead of ending them. He hated him because when people looked at Alfred they saw a hero; when they looked at Arthur they saw a villain masquerading as a boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware both the title and summary sucks but I don't have anything better. Also my first time writing USUK!


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred hovers in the doorway. "We're going now."

"I'll watch you on the news."

"Or, ya know," Alfred shifts to his other leg, "you could just come and watch me in person."

Arthur tightens his grip on his book. They've had this conversation before.

"You don't have to make a speech or even stand up there with us," Alfred says hurriedly. "You could be one of the crowd hiding off to the side or something."

"I don't want to go."

Alfred plays with the buckle of his costume. He looks like a giant child playing dress up – overly patriotic with his bright red, white and blue and topped off with the shiny Vargas logo engraved into his chest plate. He says he wears it to remind humans that he is on their side but Arthur fancies that he likes pretending to be one of the flashy superheroes in the comics he adores.

"I know you're scared but I..." Alfred rubs the back of his neck, "I kind of am too but I know I would be brave if you were there with me."

Arthur lowers his book slowly. "I can't Alfred, I'm sorry."

"This is important. This is about fighting for mutant rights. You should be there."

"There'll be more than enough of us there. My being there won't make a difference."

"It'll make a difference to me."

Arthur clenches his hands into fists. He wants to scream at Alfred, to make him understand _why_ he can't go, why it would be best for him to stay at home; instead he holds his emotions in check and keeps his face blank.

"You can cover up your skin and hide in the back."

The earnest look on Alfred's face hurts Arthur to look at.

"Next time, maybe..." he mumbles non-committally.

"Weren't you the one who told me I was a joke, that I was a disappointment to our race? You told me to to do something important and now that I am you're hiding in your room?" Alfred slams the side of his hand into the door frame. The wood cracks down the length of the frame almost to the base.

Arthur lowers his gaze, ignoring his instincts to yell at Alfred for his impulsive action, or to do something as equally impulsive like crossing the room and cupping that lovely face in his palms.

"God dammit," Alfred mutters, dropping his hands, his cheeks flushed red.

"You're going to be late. You should get going."

"...Yeah." Alfred remains in the doorway.

"They'll be waiting for-"

Alfred crosses the room and throws his arms around Arthur.

"Don't!" Arthur shouts as he struggles in the too tight grip. "Get off me!"

"No," Alfred says, pulling Arthur close to his chest. He inhales Arthur's scent – grass and earth from gardening all afternoon – and draws it deep into his lungs. "I'm not letting go until I get a hug."

Arthur flails and swears and curses Alfred's ancestors, but each action only widens Alfred's grin. It had been too long since Arthur had overreacted to Alfred, too long since he'd flipped out when Alfred mussed his matted hair or flung Arthur across his shoulder. This is the Arthur he loves and misses.

Arthur runs out of stream mid profanity and slumps into Alfred's hold. After a moment he places cautious hands on Alfred's back. Then fingers curl and dig into Alfred's stupid clothes and tug their bodies close.

"I guess I can come with you," Arthur mutters into Alfred's neck. "If it'll stop your whining."

Alfred smiles into Arthur's hair. "It will."

#

"Hey," Alfred said and dropped down onto the chair opposite Arthur.

The Brit looked up from his food and thick eyebrows came together. "What are you doing?"

"Thought we could have lunch together."

The frown deepened. "Did Francis put you up to this?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Because you and I haven't spoken in the month you've been here and unless you've lost a bet I can't see why you're sitting at my table."

Alfred broke out into that wide smile of his. "Chillax dude, I didn't lose a bet. Just thought you might be lonely sitting here all by yourself."

"I prefer solitude."

"But you're always alone."

Arthur gave him a look. "Yes, as I mentioned I prefer it that way."

"Doesn't that make you lonely though?"

"There's a difference between alone and lonely."

"Yeah I know, but..." Alfred trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly. He hadn't expected Arthur to be so hostile; rather Alfred thought he'd be grateful to have company for once.

Arthur stared at him. "You should go back and sit with your friends before they think you've abandoned them, or worse, try to join us."

Alfred chuckled, before fading to nervous laughter when Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not joking," he said. "I want you to leave this table."

"Urm, right." Alfred stood up but hesitated. "But, ya know, if you ever get lonely or whatever you can talk to me. I'm always around if you need me."

"Because you're the hero," Arthur said, pushing his food away. "Because as soon as there's a crisis you have to come running to save the day." Arthur stood up and leant forward with his palms on the table. "I am not in need of a hero, Jones, and I am not in need of you. Don't bother me again."


	3. Chapter 3

Several pairs of eyebrows raise when Arthur turns up to the garage. Alfred wants to wrap an arm around Arthur's shoulder but he knows the action would be unwanted. Instead he makes do with narrowing his eyes at his friends in warning before they make a comment that sends Arthur scuttling back to his room.

"Arturo!" Feli shouts, his wings fluttering excitedly and slapping his brother in the face. "Are you going to join us for the speech?"

He happily dashes forward but Ludwig catches his wrist before Feli can repeat history.

Arthur's face burns under all the attention. "No, not quite. I was hoping I could watch from the crowd."

"Of course," Professor Vargas says. "Lovi was planning to keep out of the spotlight too so you'll both have company."

_I don't want company_ , Lovino grumbles telepathically. _Especially not him._

"It's not like I want to be stuck with you either," Arthur snaps.

_Good. Then stay away from me._

"Arthur, Lovino," the Professor says, bringing heavy hands down on both their shoulders. "Today we are facing the prejudices of the scared and ignorant and fighting against a bill that will force mutants to publicly reveal their identities and abilities. Please do not tell me that you two cannot stand together to demonstrate your support."

Arthur wants to say it is Lovino who is the problem and that it would be best to keep the volatile mutant – who is as likely to loose control of his temper as he is his powers – at the mansion and out of sight of the public.

But he doesn't, partly because he is the Professor's grandson and partly because it would only kick off a violent argument, but mostly because Arthur has no leg to stand on. Lovino might have taken out half the building once or twice but at least he's never harmed another.

He also, reluctantly, supposes they should put on a united front considering they were soon going to be facing an agitated and unpredictable crowd.

_Fine._ Lovino folds his arms and glares at Arthur. _You better keep your hands off me though._

"Why don't you focus on keeping your own powers under control and not mine?"

Lovino holds the glare until Antonio swoops in and steals his attention.

Alfred nudges him. "Come on, Artie. I'll drive us."

Arthur follows him across the garage to his indiscriminate black van. Alfred has been working on it for months, even roping Berwald into inventing something that would alter the van's colour from black to Alfred's favourite red, white, and blue at the push of a button. Berwald is still working on it, mainly to provide a disguise mechanism for the Vargas' vehicles than for Alfred's penchant for theatricals.

The two of them hop in the van, then sit in the silence as they wait for everyone else.

"Artie?"

Arthur turns away from the window to Alfred. "Yes."

Alfred smiles at him.

#

Ever since Arthur had told him to stay away, Alfred found himself more and more enthralled by the angry Brit. It started off innocently enough – Alfred noticing when Arthur was around so he could stay out of his way – before it slowly escalated into Alfred noticing when he wasn't around and wondering what he frequently disappeared to and what he did. On more than one occasion he found himself searching the mansion and the grounds for Arthur after he'd disappeared for the day, or waiting up at night for the Brit to sneak into the dorm.

While paying attention, Alfred uncovered Arthur had a green thumb and spent hours digging in the dirt and tending to his rose bushes. He learnt Arthur wiled away hours in the library, tucked in a chair in the corner, oblivious to the world outside of his novel. He was surprised to discover Arthur coveted sleeping in, loved listening to the Sex Pistols The Clash and Siouxsie and the Banshees with his headphones at full volume, and on some rainy days Arthur would stare out the window with a strange look on his face.

It quickly came to be that Arthur would slip into Alfred's thoughts when he brushed his teeth or sat in class or weight lifted in the gym. He decided to ask the other students about him and found Arthur had come to the school the year before after apparently putting some kid in a coma. Antonio claimed he'd been chased from the country fleeing assault charges but Francis said Arthur had ran from home after his family had been harassed. The one person who might know, Kiku, the resident telepath, only told Alfred it was none of their business before kicking his ass suspiciously well in their game.

All his investigations led to little other than irritating Arthur who seemingly despised Alfred for reasons he couldn't discern. Alfred was sure he hadn't done or said anything that might offend him but Arthur would have nothing to do with him. Arthur didn't have anything much to do with anyone else either but at least he would chat with Lukas or sit in companionable silence with Kiku. He'd often argue or fight with Francis too but Alfred didn't so much as get a single insult, only angry silence.

Nearly two months into his stay at the school, Alfred lay in bed, wide awake with thoughts turning to Arthur as they so often did these days. He stared at the empty bed beside his own and questioned where its owner was at three in the morning. And was he OK?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating telling you who some of the characters (like Lovino) are based on since I'm not sure how much I'll get into their powers and characters. For now I'll just say that I'm a fan of the comics and not all of the characters have appeared in the films.
> 
> If you want I could provide more clues in the notes for who is who. Or you could just ask if you're that interested.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur jiggles his leg as they drive through slow traffic to the rally. Cars clogg the roads, more of them displaying Friends of Humanity stickers than he expects, and Arthur is glad for the tinted windows and Alfred at his side.

Police hold the thick crowd back but their presence only sets Arthur more on edge. He can't trust they'll keep the crowd in check if things look like they might get out of hand. Hell, he won't be surprised if they join in with the bigots and disperse brute force.

"I didn't think there'd be so many people here," Alfred says as he looks around.

"At a rally for mutant rights? Where the topic of discussion is currently the biggest and most controversial bill in America? Where world famous mutants are speaking out in protest? Yeah, it's a mystery."

Alfred sticks his tongue out.

Arthur shakes his head but can't hide his smile. "I hope you have something more intelligent in mind for the cameras."

"Hell yeah, you know my speech is the most kickass thing anyone will ever hear."

"Mutant kind is doomed."

Alfred chortles.

Less than a minute later Alfred pulls over to the side of the road. "I think it'd be best if I let you out here. Any closer and the press might catch us together."

"Alright."

Neither of them moves.

"Everything is going to be OK, right?"

Arthur swallows his uneasy feelings. "With you out there how could it not?"

His words bring a wobbly grin to Alfred's face. "You sound like one of my fans."

"Don't lump me in with that lot," Arthur says with a huff.

"Naw, you're special."

If it isn't for the pit in his stomach and the mass of bodies outside of the van, the moment might bring a flush to Arthur's face. Instead it unnerves him, reminds him of problems that still exist and why slipping into old habits with Alfred is a bad idea.

"I need to go," Arthur says, clearing his throat. He hops out of the van, purposely not looking back to witness the look of pain he knows is on Alfred's face, and strides away.

#

It kicked off in the Danger Room.

Arthur had been participating in the classes since he'd joined the school at the suggestion of both Professor Vargas and Professor Beilschmidt. A lot of kids opted out of the Danger Room sessions but Arthur had taken the demanding course to learn how to cope in dangerous situations. And to learn how to fight. He didn't make his second reason known but – as he'd discovered back in England – the ability to defend oneself against bigger, stronger, and numerous enemies could not be underestimated.

The training worked for Arthur. He knew how to quickly disarm an opponent, how to counter attacks, and the vulnerable points in the human body to target. He paid attention to his surroundings, devised escape routes and located possible weapons from the immediate vicinity. He dodged Ludwig's hulking metallic body, snaked by Yao's fire, and punched Francis in the throat before the git could flick a single charged card his way. And he did it all without using his powers.

Which was why, when Alfred heaved himself over Arthur to defend from Mathias blasting their way, Arthur was pissed. He lay on the floor, winded, head throbbing where it had hit the ground, and Alfred's heavy body crushing his.

"I've got you," Alfred breathed, their faces mere inches apart.

Arthur shoved Alfred off him and leapt to his feet, ignoring the shooting pain in his skull. "You've got me?" he yelled incredulously. "Are you serious?"

Alfred sat up wearing a befuddled expression. "I saved you from Mathias."

"You didn't _save_ me from Mathias," Arthur growled. "I was perfectly fine. I knew where he was and I had a plan in mind to avoid his attack."

Alfred scratched the back of his neck, gaze darting from eavesdropping classmates to Arthur. "I thought I was helping..."

"Oh, of course you did. Of course you thought you were helping because there was no way in hell someone like me could defend themselves from someone like Mathias. I suppose I should be falling to my hands and knees and praising the great and magnificent Alfred Jones for saving a hapless, pathetic mutant like myself. Thank you so much, Jones, and thanks for the concussion too."

Alfred turned his gaze to the ground, face and ears turning red.

"Mon ami," Francis muttered as he placed a hand on Arthur shoulder, "you are overreacting."

"Fuck off." Arthur shoved him away before turning back to Alfred. "And fuck you too, Jones. If you weren't so busy prancing about playing hero you might have taken the time to notice that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and that I don't need or want your help. This time pay attention when I tell you to stay the fuck away from me."

Arthur turned and strode from the Danger Room, ignoring the stares of every other person in the room. Even Professor Beilschmidt stood aside and let him leave.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Arthur turned and fled not to the dorm or library but to his little patch of garden. He collapsed beside the rose bushes, dropped his head between his knees and drew in deep breaths to fight hyperventilation.

He focused on holding his breath and reminding himself that the air was there even if it didn't feel like it. After what happened with... with Naveen, Arthur had suffered his share of panic attacks and his mum had taught him methods to calm down. With shaky hands he pulled off his gloves and dug his fingers into the dirt. Touching the earth, feeling the blades of grass between his fingers centered him, relaxed his body and mind.

He hadn't been there five minutes when Alfred found him.

"Dude, you OK?" he asked, leaning over Arthur.

Arthur glared at him. "I was."

The idiot plonked himself down uninvited.

"What is wrong with you?" Arthur asked. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from me?"

"A lot, I guess," Alfred answered with a shrug and a smile.

"This isn't a game we're playing. I'm not joking and I'm not playing a prank on you. I want you to leave me alone."

Alfred leant back on his elbows, long legs stretched out before him. "Why though? I keep trying to work out what I did to make you hate me and I can't think of anything. I've only been nice to you but you've had a stick up your ass about me from the moment I came to this school. So why? Why can't you stand me?"

Arthur clutched the grass. Even if he explained his reasons Alfred wouldn't understand. How could he? Alfred viewed the world through rose tinted glasses – mutants were superheroes, the public were misinformed, and villains were distant evil doers; the world of grey morals and complicated motivations would be too foreign, too incomprehensible to him.

Arthur did not answer Alfred and he did not explain why there was no point in answering. Instead he stood up and walked away.

"Wait!" Alfred grabbed his hands. His _bare_ hands. "Don't leave, not without-"

Power seeped into Arthur's skin, rippling up his arms.

"Jones. Jones!" Arthur yelled, panic bubbling in his stomach. "Let go of me!"

"I just want a reason why."

"You're touching me, Jones. Alfred!"

Alfred's gaze travelled to their hands, his mouth open dumbly. "Arthur?" he asked staggering on the ground.

Arthur tried to jerk away but Alfred's grip was too tight, fingers clamping down in a way that reminded him of rigor mortis.

Alfred dropped to his knees. His powers bloomed in Arthur, flourishing him with heady strength. Except with it came Alfred – his memories, his personality, his conscious. A part of Alfred became a part of Arthur and would be with him forever.

Using Alfred's stolen strength, Arthur broke free of Alfred's hold. Without Arthur keeping him up, Alfred collapsed to the ground and didn't move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to give some hints for characters and if you want you can have a guess about who is who.
> 
> Kiku is based on a female telepath who made a brief appearance in one of the X-Men films and had a thing with Cylops in the comics (which really does nothing to narrow down the possible characters). Yao is based on a pyrokinetic mutant who became one of Apocalypse's Horsemen for a time in the comics.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur and Lovino stand to the side just behind the press. Both are uneasy – shoulders hunched, arms crossed, Lovino hiding in his scarf and Arthur ducking his head. Despite telling himself that it is highly unlikely he will be recognised by American journalists, Arthur feels as though a neon sign screaming 'Arthur Kirkland! Mutant!' hangs above his head. Each time a bored cameraman or news anchor turns his way, Arthur freezes while his heart pounds against his rib cage. Then they look away and both Arthur and Lovino breathe a sigh of relief.

They don't have to wait long before Professor Vargas leads his students onto the stage. Boos clash against the whistles and claps thundering through the crowd. A flurry of phones snap pictures while the official press records the entrance.

Alfred smiles brightly at the crowd and waves to cheers and applause. He spots the banners and posters of his fans and winks in their direction. It's still new to him, having people who follow him to events, who squeal when he speaks to them or ask to have their photo taken with him. Some of the others have their own fans too; Francis and Gilbert in particular cultivate followers and compete for popularity, though they always fall short of Antonio who gathers a hundred new fans every time he smiles.

Alfred scans the crowd until he finds Arthur. His smile softens. Watching him behind the cameras, all hunched over and small, Alfred wants to jump from the stage, tug him close and take him away from all the people and the noise.

Professor Vargas approaches the podium and gives the crowd a moment to calm down before he speaks. "My name is Julius Vargas and I am here today to urge you to vote against the Mutant Registration Act. You may know my face – it is certainly a photogenic face – and those of my students standing beside me. You may know our mutancy, you may know our powers and you may know our names. You may know this because we have chosen to reveal these facts about ourselves. We have chosen to reveal ourselves to each and everyone of you just as many have chosen to keep their mutancy hidden. If the Mutant Registration Act passes we will not have this choice.

"If the Mutant Registration Act passes-"

Arthur takes his eyes of the Professor to the reporter eyeing him and tapping on her phone. The hair on the back of his neck stands up. He shifts on the spot and tells himself it is nothing. Then the reporter whispers to her cameraman and when they turn his way, Arthur knows it is something.

"Tell Alfred I had to leave," Arthur mutters to Lovino.

_Are you shitting me? Nonno only just started his speech._

Arthur doesn't get a chance to reply because suddenly there is a camera in his face and a reporter asking if he is the mutant Arthur Kirkland from England.

Arthur sucks in a breath. His palms clam up.

"Mr Kirkland, isn't it true that your mutant powers caused the death of teenager Naveen Patel?"

#

Alfred opened his eyes.

Arthur looked down at him, fingers twisting around the metal railing of the bed. "Alfred?" he whispered. "Alfred can you hear me?"

Alfred's lips curved into a lopsided grin. "You have rough hands."

Arthur blinked and spared a glance at Emma before turning his attention to the boy in the bed.

"I always thought they'd be soft," Alfred mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. "Because of the gloves. But I still like them... your hands..."

 

 

 

_[There was a boy. There were other too – flashes of faces and snippets of conversations – but the boy flickered throughout it all. He stood by a locker, or at the back of a class, or ducking his head as he passed a crowd. The boy drew attention. He drew attention because he was a mutant of the green skinned variety. He drew Alfred's attention.]_

 

 

 

"Arthur. Arthur he's up."

Arthur jerked awake into a sitting position. He'd refused to return to his dorm so Emma had given him a bed to rest in until Alfred came to.

"Is he..."

"Come see," Emma said and led him from one room to the other,

Alfred lounged in the bed, scoffing down waffles and ice cream and flicking through the channels on the TV. He glanced over at the doorway as they entered and and grinned. "Hey dude. Sleep well?"

Arthur edged into the room, staring at Alfred. "Are you... alright?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I felt a little weak earlier but I'm fine now. And Emma made me waffles with chocolate sauce and ice-cream," he said lifting the plate up. "You want to share?"

Arthur shuffled closer to his bed. "How long have you been awake?"

"I dunno. Maybe an hour or two."

Arthur whirled on Emma. "Why didn't you come get me? I told you to get me up when he woke."

"I was too busy giving Alfred an examination. And unless you wanted to watch him go red in the face trying to touch his toes-"

"No one should be able to touch their toes – it's physically impossible."

"- or combust a vein reciting the states of America-"

"I got them all in the end, didn't I."

"You said Canada twice."

"I was delirious from hunger."

"You also suggested Asgard."

"...That was a joke."

"Either way," Emma said, "Alfred is fine and can leave when he is ready. Preferable before he asks for third helpings."

"They are really good," Alfred said as Emma left them alone.

Arthur stood awkwardly in the room, unsure of himself and the situation.

Alfred waved him over. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Me?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, how you doing after enjoying a taste of my powers?"

Arthur didn't know quite how to respond and settled for falling into the chair beside Alfred's bed. "I, er.." he mumbled after a moment. "I'm not-"

He leant his tense body forward and scrubbed his face. The whole situation seemed too bizarre, too far removed from his worst fears that he half imaged it was Alfred's psyche in his head trying to cheer him up with false dreams.

But no, this was the real Alfred, ever the unselfish hero, asking after others even he was in the infirmary. Even when they put him there.

Arthur turned sharply to Alfred. "How can you be so calm and nice to me after what I did, Jones? I could have killed you."

"Yeah but you didn't."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but Alfred cut him off first.

"What happened was an accident, a stupid one, but still an accident. And if it was anyone's fault it was mine for not letting go even when you told me to. So stop kicking yourself about it and have a bite of these waffles." He held out the fork to Arthur with that wide grin on his face. "Tell me they aren't the best you've ever tasted."

"I'm not in the mood for waffles, Jones."

"Call me Alfred."

"I'm not in the mood for waffles, Alfred."

"Come on, Arthur, you nearly killed me; the least you could do indulge me with a bite of these delicious waffles and ice-cream."

Arthur gaped at him.

Alfred laughed and despite all the tension and anxiety threaded through his body and mind, Arthur found himself smirking in turn.

"You're a bloody git, Alfred Jones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiku is based on Psylocke, twin sister to Captain Britain and who later switched bodies with a Japanese ninja. Psylocke is telepathic and telekinetic and wields a psychic katana. Yao, however, is based on Sunfire, a Japanese mutant who can generate superheated plasma and fly. Sunfire became Famine, one of Apocalypse's Horsemen after losing his legs in a battle with Lady Deathstrike and losing his powers during M-Day. Rogue absorbed a large potion of Sunfire's powers for a short while.
> 
> For this week, Antonio is based on a member of the X-Men who is not a mutant but a genetically slave from a dystopian dimension with luck powers. Gilbert is based on a teleporting mutant who is a devout Catholic.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur steps back. His heart thumps against his ribs.

"What is your response to the parents of Naveen Patel who have accused you of murdering their son?"

"I-I-"

"Do you feel their reactions are justified?"

Arthur takes another step backwards but the reporter and cameraman follow his retreat. Behind them the remaining press begin to take notice.

"What would you like to say to the parents of Naveen Patel?"

"You're- you're missing Professor Vargas' speech."

One of the other reporters pushes forward. "Do you believe your powers are a danger to the public?"

"What about the movements in England petitioning for your arrest?" asks the first reporter. "Did you flee to America to escape justice as Mr and Mrs Patel claim?"

More reporters turn their attention his way.

"Where you aware of your abilities before you put Naveen in a coma?"

"Do you believe mutants should be segregated for the good of human and mutant kind?"

Arthur swallows and his fingers twist in the hem of his top. He searches for Alfred on the stage but his view is blocked by the reporters and cameramen.

"Do you believe your status as a mutant puts you above the law?" someone shouts.

"How many times have you hurt someone?"

"Do you have any remorse for Mr Patel's death?"

Arthur spins around and tries to escape but there are too many people blocking his exit. The press surge forward, circling and enclosing in on him.

"What is your view on mutants with fatal powers?"

"Do you believe mutants should be allowed to mingle with people when they have the ability to kill or maim?"

The first reporter stands close enough that Arthur feels her breath on his face. "Are you against the Mutant Registration Act because you believe it will hold mutants accountable for the harm and damage caused by their powers?"

"We are already accountable," Arthur says, trying to find space to breathe in.

"If that's true," says the reporter, "then why have you escaped charges for the murder of Naveen Patel."

"I didn't kill him!" Arthur shouts, his throat dry and horse. He blinks back tears and wills himself not to do or say anything stupid.

"But is it not true that your mutant powers put Naveen Patel into a coma for a year before he passed away?"

"How do you account for his death if-"

"That's enough."

Arthur glances up and finds Alfred pushing his way through the cluster of press, his body glowing against the sun and his stupid patriotic costume all sharp and impressive.

"Alfred, are you aware of Arthur's past?"

"Do you believe Mr Kirkland is dangerous?"

Alfred catches Arthur's hand tightly and leads him away.

The first reporter jumps in his path. "Mr Jones, are you defending Mr Kirkland because he is a mutant?"

Alfred turns around, nudging Arthur behind him as he faces the reporter. "I am defending him because he is not a murderer and he does not deserve to be punished for an outcome that was completely out of his control."

The woman opens her mouth.

"We're not answering any more questions. Please step aside so we can leave."

"What is your relationship to Arthur? Is there a reason you're protecting him?"

"Ma'am, if you don't move out of our way I'll have security escort you away for creating a disturbance." Alfred nods to the security guards before tugging at Arthur's hand. "Let's get out of here."

The press reluctantly breaks for Alfred even as they shout more questions and try to sneak past the security guards blocking them. Arthur follows at his heel and in minutes Alfred has led them from the press and the thick of the crowd and into the back of the van.

The moment Alfred closes the doors behind them, Arthur collapses to the floor and shakily exhales.

#

"Come sit with us."

Arthur fiddled with the tray in his hands. "They don't want me there," he said, hating the way he sounded like a petulant child.

Alfred shrugged. "I want you there."

"This may come as a surprise to you, Jones-"

"Alfred."

"-Alfred, but we don't always get what we want."

"When I was a kid I wanted to be a superhero and now I have superpowers. So buck up, Artie, I always get what I want." Alfred shot him a mega-watt smile before clamping onto his shoulders and pushing him to the table.

Silence fell as they approached, just as Arthur had known it would. Matthew turned to his plate when Arthur reached them and Antonio nudged Lovino behind him as if Arthur was about to fling himself across the table and grab onto the mute mutant.

"Hey guys, you don't mind if Arthur joins us, right?"

From the looks exchanged they did.

Face red and lacking any appetite, Arthur was ready to flee when someone spoke up.

"You're welcome to sit beside me," Kiku said, his voice soft but clear, "if Alfred doesn't mind finding another seat."

Relief rushed through Arthur and he strode around the table – leaving a wide berth between himself and the others – and sat down to Kiku's left. He could have hugged Kiku when the Japanese boy didn't so much as blink when their elbows brushed.

"Thanks," Arthur muttered. "I, er... thank you."

Kiku nodded and the two ate their meal in near silence as Alfred filled in the lull until the conversation picked up.

 

 

 

"You alright?"

The voice came in fuzzy and Arthur opened his scrunched up eyes. He blinked first at the hand waving in front of his face and then at Alfred. "I'm fine," he said, bowing his head towards his forgotten book.

"You looked like you were in pain," Alfred said, leaning across the table and ducking his head to see Arthur. The worry was evident on his face.

"It's nothing, just the noise giving me a headache."

"What noise?"

It took Arthur a moment to adjust to his surroundings, to the silence of the library where its inhabitants spoke in hushed whispers.

Arthur shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Alfred opened his mouth to question further but stopped when Arthur began massaging his temples. He'd first noticed the habit a week earlier and before Alfred could bug him about it, Kiku's voice had appeared in his head suggesting it might be best to leave Arthur be.

Again he took Kiku's advice and let the question drop, though he couldn't help but wonder what it was that Kiku knew and when Arthur would share his secret, if he ever would.

 

 

 

Alfred cracked his neck and rolled onto his side. His gaze found Arthur, and lingered. Arthur's thick brows were knitted together and his other hand clutched at his hair. Math, Alfred decided. Arthur always looked two seconds away from a brain haemorrhage when it came to algebra or calculus.

"Want help?" Alfred asked.

"No," he said without looking up.

Alfred watched as he stabbed his work with his pen.

"You look like you need help."

"I'm working on my maths homework, not comic book trivia. When I want to know Thor's measurements you'll be the first I'll ask."

Alfred frowned. "I'm good at math."

"This is a little more advanced than the times table."

"Which is why you could use some help."

He was ignored.

"It's a bit mean of you to ignore someone you nearly killed three weeks ago," Alfred said in his saddest voice.

Arthur slapped his textbook down, its bounce on the duvet diminishing the display of annoyance. "Fine. You can help," he said, saying the word 'help' like it hurt him. "But you're really wearing out your blackmail material."

Alfred grinned and jumped up from his bed and hopped onto Arthur's. Arthur flinched when Alfred bumped into him but they both wore long sleeved tops and Arthur had his gloves on so it wasn't like anyone could get hurt. Still Arthur shifted away.

"So what are you having trouble with?"

Arthur tugged on his sleeves till they reached his fingertips. "Er, well all of it."

Alfred picked up Arthur's sheet of answers. A quick scan of his messy scrawl showed that his calculations were pure guesswork. "I see that."

"Like you have clue what you're doing," Arthur said with a huff.

"I know you don't have a single correct answer on this page."

"And how would you know that?"

"Probably because I'm an consistent A student in math."

Arthur turned to him, his eyes wide. "You're good at maths?"

"Duh, I said that already."

"But... but you're an idiot."

"Hey!" Alfred said and nudged him, though not lightly enough as Arthur almost fell off the bed. Alfred pulled him upright with an apology and a timid smile at the glare he received. "I can teach you this stuff if you want," he said before Arthur could bitch at him. "It's pretty simple really."

Arthur stared at him, his head tipped to one side. "Two days ago you wore your shoes on the wrong feet. How do you even pass maths let alone get an A?"

"I was in a rush when I put my sneakers on and I realised the mistake in first period-"

"-fifty minutes in."

"-and anyway math is easy compared to English Lit or something. At least math can't be interpreted fifty billion ways and there's only ever one correct answer. Math makes sense at least."

"Not from where I'm standing. I'd rather be writing a dissertation on Fifty Shades of fucking Grey."

Alfred ginned. "Then how about we make a deal – I tutor you in math and you tutor me in English?"

"Fine, but you better be a good teacher. And you better pay attention when I'm teaching you," Arthur said. "You doze off once and that's it."

"How could I ever doze off when I'm listening to you, Artie?"

Arthur frowned at Alfred. "Just..." He shook his head. "Just help me with this then. It's due tomorrow so don't mess about."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

They spent the next hour on Arthur's bed. Side by side, Arthur relaxing enough that he didn't move away when their limbs touched.

Progress, Alfred thought, but didn't say aloud.

 

 

 

_["Goddamn freak," James spat as he eyed the boy in the changing rooms. "He shouldn't be in here with us."_

_Eric followed his gaze and his mouth twisted into a grin that was all teeth. "Yeah, we should sue the school for making us look at him; his face is bad enough but no one should have to see him getting undressed."_

_There was no smile on James' face. "Who the fuck does he think he is, acting like he's deserves to be here, like he's normal? It's not right."_

_"Let's start a petition. All we need to do is stick a photo of his fugly face on a poster and we'd have all the signatures we need."_

_"He's a fucking monster," James said. "Look at him! He has green skin and he still pretends he's human."_

_"Do you think he bleeds green?"_

_"Maybe we should find out. Right Jones?"_

_Alfred fumbled with shoe laces, failing to tie a knot for the fifth time. He mumbled a response._

_James paid him no attention, his gaze still on the boy. "Fucking mutie scum."]_

 

 

 

Arthur slid on his shoes, crossed the room and opened the dorm door.

Alfred watched him, a slight frown on his face. "Where do you go?"

The question wasn't particularly loud but Arthur jumped and looked over his shoulder.

"Pardon?"

"Where do you go that keeps you out till three in the morning?"

"Why is that your business?"

Alfred sighed.

Arthur shifted weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry," he murmured. "Habits and all."

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Arthur nodded, but then didn't speak or move.

"You should go," Alfred said when Arthur remained frozen in place. "It's going to be curfew soon."

"Right." Arthur's hand lingered on the door handle for a moment before he slipped out of the room.

Alfred flopped back on his bed. He told himself it had only been a month since they'd started this new friendship, only a month he repeated as he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Sometimes they seemed to be friends – eating lunch together, studying on their beds or the library, even hanging out while Arthur gardened – and then there would be occasions when still Arthur called him Jones, when he hesitated while Alfred coerced him into a conversation or times when Arthur disappeared without so much as a word. Trying to be Arthur's friend was more frustrating than competing in video games against a telepath.

Just as he was about to bemoan Arthur's inability to open up, the Brit returned and stood awkwardly in the door frame.

"If you want," he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring at the floor, "you could join me."

Alfred broke out into a wide smile. "Really?"

"Only if you hurry up."

Alfred jumped from his bed, threw on sneakers and grabbed his hoodie before hurtling after Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Quatrina who nailed it with guessing Longshot and Nightcrawler.
> 
> Antonio is based on Longshot who has a few powers including psychometry, superhuman agility, healing factor and probability manipulation (good luck). He joined the X-Men for a while and had a relationship with Dazzler. He also, unfortunately, has a mullet but from what I remember he seemed pretty popular with the ladies. Gilbert is of course Nightcrawler who is the son of Mystique and Azazel and brother to Rogue. Nightcrawler is deeply religious and has a great sense of humour - he enjoys pranking people and playing in the Danger Room. Nightcrawler is good friends with Wolverine and recently sacrificed his life to save Rogue... but he got better.
> 
> Lovino is based on a British mutant who's manifestation destroyed much of his chest and lower face and as a result he cannot speak and does not eat, drink or breathe. Emma (Belgium) is based on a mutant who creates marble sized balls of destruction and who has had a few different codenames along the way. To be honest most of my knowledge of her comes from X-Men Evolution.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred clenches his fists. His breath comes out harsh and heavy and his body shakes with tension.

Those damn witch hunters. Why did they have to notice Arthur? Why did they have to attack him like that?

Hate bubbles under his skin and he wishes he could kick them from the rally completely, or at least tell them to fuck off. If it were only his own reputation on the line he wouldn't think twice about telling that woman where she could stick her microphone... but it isn't just about him. He is a public figure and his actions affect not just the school but the mutant cause. And as much as he wants to protect Arthur, the cause is bigger than the both of them.

Alfred peers over his fists to Arthur. He is sat in the corner, curled into himself, silent. Alfred swings from needing to comfort Arthur to fearing his presence will be refused. It is, after all, his fault that this has happened. He is the one who'd ignored Arthur's protests and dragged him here. He is the one who took to the stage and left Arthur in their clutches. He can blame the reporters all he wants but it is his own selfish need to have Arthur close by that had put him in danger.

The minutes tick by. The Professor and the others will be missing him by now, wondering if he is going to return to deliver his speech.

He's spent weeks writing it. Arthur had helped him; the two of them on his bed, jumbled notes scattered as Arthur ordered his disjointed scribblings into coherent sentences and Alfred tried to focus on the importance of mutant rights and not that they sat pressed together from shoulder to thigh. There were moments when they turned to face each other and they were close enough that their noses almost brushed and their words stuttered. It hadn't been will power that had stopped him from leaning over and kissing Arthur, but the memory of what had happened the first and last time he'd tried it.

Alfred supposes he should return to the rally to smile for the cameras and deliver words of hope and justice to an audience that either loves or despises him – but he doesn't move. Though he knows and understands Arthur will be safe in the nondescript van with its military upgrades, he could never leave him in such a state.

Arthur doesn't speak and Alfred doesn't know what to say. Naveen's death isn't his fault? He doesn't deserve what those reporters had said? Everything will be okay?

Even though Alfred knows it is true, Arthur will never believe it. He'd already destroyed himself twice over Naveen; Alfred doesn't want to know if he can last a third time.

So instead of talking about Arthur's self hatred, Alfred opens up about his own.

"Toris Laurinaitis," he says, his voice cracking already. "He's the mutant you dream about."

Arthur shifts and his gaze finds Alfred's. He looks tired and confused.

"The one with the green skin," Alfred clarifies.

Arthur frowns. "You said you didn't know his name."

Alfred swallows and looks down to stare at his shoes. "I didn't want you to know about him."

"Why?"

"Because I let him die."

#

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked as they sneaked down the corridor.

"Keep your voice down. We don't want to draw attention."

"Oh, okay," Alfred whispered. "But seriously, where are we going?"

"I'm visiting my dealer."

Alfred's eyes widened. "What?!"

The corners of Arthur's lips turned up into a rare smile. "Aha, and then I'm gonna raid Professor Beilschmidt's beer stash and get wasted in the teachers lounge."

"You're screwing with me, right?"

"Yes, Alfred."

Alfred smiled. Arthur rarely teased him – in fact the first time he did so Alfred had been convinced Arthur was the Queen's grandson, at least until Francis had overheard and burst into laughter. Alfred supposed he should have been embarrassed but the fact that Arthur was comfortable enough to mess with him made him stupidly happy.

Arthur led him through the school, only having to dodge one teacher walking the halls, until they reached the music room. Arthur picked the locks and it quickly clicked open. Alfred had seen him do it a few times in the Danger Room – a talent he'd apparently picked up from his brothers years ago.

Arthur pushed open the door and with a flick of a switch, bright lights flooded the room. Alfred blinked as Arthur tugged him inside and closed the door behind them.

"What are we doing here?" Alfred asked.

Arthur tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders drawn and head bowed. "You wanted to know where I went at night."

Alfred looked around the room, at the instruments neatly tidied away from the night, the stage at the back of the room, the stacked chairs and the teacher's office to the side. It all appeared normal. "You come here?"

"Yes."

Alfred examined the room again. He hadn't known where Arthur had disappeared to but he'd imagined somewhere more... unusual, mysterious even. He may have imagined Arthur slinking through a forest barefoot, or tinkering away on super secret projects in the labs below the basement, or, less fantastically, hitchhiking into town to drink and dance his thoughts away. Sneaking away to the music room though, it seemed too mundane for Arthur. Or maybe it wasn't about where he went but what he did there.

"Why?" he asked.

Arthur crossed the room and picked up a guitar, not one of the flashy electric ones but a plain classical guitar. He slung the strap around his neck and played a few chords.

"You... come here to play the guitar?" That couldn't be right. Maybe he came here to break it instead? But no, that didn't make sense either.

"More like I'm teaching myself how to play."

"You sneak out until three in the morning to teach yourself the guitar?"

Arthur slid a book off a shelf and opened it to a bookmarked page. "That's right."

"Um..." Alfred stood in the middle of the room as Arthur perched on the stage. He felt like he was missing something.

Arthur rested his fingers against the strings but didn't play. "It gets loud sometimes," Arthur said, in little more than a whisper that Alfred had to strain to hear. "In my head."

Alfred frowned and stared at his hunched body for a moment before joining him on the stage. "You mean your thoughts?" Alfred asked. He could understand that – there were times when he wanted to turn off the thoughts and memories running on repeat in his own mind.

But Arthur shook his head. "No, it's, it's not that, it's..." He inhaled and released a shuddering sigh. "Every time I touch someone I don't just absorb their powers – I absorb their psyche too. I carry their memories, knowledge, talents and personality and even when the powers fade their psyche lingers like an echo of that person. Mostly they stay buried in my subconscious, but sometimes they get... loud."

"They talk?" Alfred asked in a horrified whisper. He didn't know how to react to the news that Arthur had people running around in his head; it seemed like something from a horror film and made Alfred's skin crawl.

Arthur plucked a string and the note sang silently. "Occasionally. Mostly I dream about memories that aren't mine. Sometimes though, when I'm exhausted and worn or emotionally drained they break through into my consciousness and it can be... overwhelming."

"How many psyches are in there?"

"Three. Feliciano and you too now. And Naveen."

"Naveen wh-" Alfred broke off abruptly. He'd read that name when googling Arthur a few weeks back. They'd been dozens of articles on Arthur, most defamatory and all mentioning Naveen Patel, the Sleeping Beauty cursed by a wicked mutant.

"So you know about him?"

"Yeah," Alfred admitted sheepishly.

Arthur hand's settled on the neck of the guitar. "It's fine," he said. "You can know about Naveen, I don't want him swept under a rug."

"Do you want to talk about him?" Alfred asked. A part of him wanted to know more about Arthur's boyfriend and a part of him really didn't.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately Arthur answered with, "No." Then he lifted his head and met Alfred's gaze. "But I would like to ask about a mutant you knew, a boy with green skin?"

The blood drained from Alfred's face and his heart hammered in his chest. "You're dreaming about him?" he all but whispered.

"Yes, rather a lot. In fact I'd say it's the only memory seeping from your psyche."

Alfred looked away and said nothing.

"He must be important," Arthur prompted, "if he's this strong in your thoughts and memories."

"I only knew him in passing," Alfred said, truthfully. "He was the first mutant I met so I guess he's always stood out to me."

"Did you bully him?" Arthur asked.

Alfred's wandering gaze snapped back to Arthur. "No! Why would you ask that?"

"Your friends hated mutants."

"They were bigots and they weren't my friends," Alfred answered somewhat flustered. James and Eric brought back a lot of uncomfortable and unhappy memories that Alfred had tried to forget. Everything surrounding them and Toris made Alfred want to puke his guts up. Those were the worst of his memories and the worst of him and he had never wanted Arthur to know about that part of his past. "How much of my memories have you seen?" he asked, hearing the waver in his voice.

"Snippets here and there but all centre around this mutant," Arthur answered. His gaze searched Alfred, eyes slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. Alfred struggled to maintain his composure.

"What was his name?" Arthur asked eventually.

Alfred stared at Arthur for a long moment and 'Toris Laurinaitis' weighed heavy on his tongue. He swallowed it down. "I don't know."

Arthur held his gaze but Alfred kept his face blank while his mind and body revolted and after long, heavy seconds Arthur turned away.

He propped up his book, settled his fingers on the strings and played a halting, broken melody. Alfred faced ahead and listened to the notes so he didn't have to listen to his own voice inside his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Cambelle and yet again Quatrina who guessed Emma and Lovino are based on Boom Boom and Chamber.
> 
> Boom Boom has gone through many codenames over the years and I admit I don't much about her except that in X-Men Evolution she ditched the X-Men to join the Brotherhood of Mutants until Mystique kicked her out. Chamber (a favorite of mine) is a descendent of Apocalypse and is potentially one of the most powerful mutants around, though he has his fair share of emotional issues that get in the way of that potential. Chamber was once depowered and living on life support and was once vaporized out of existence, but he got better both times. As happens in the X-Men universe.
> 
> Berwald is based on a mutant with a knack for inventions and who worked as a government weapons contractor. He was also romantically involved with Storm for a while. Mathias is based on a founding member of The New Mutants from Kentucky who has a ton of siblings, some of whom are mutants and X-Men too.
> 
> This may be my last update for a while as I work on my story for NaNo. However I do want to complete this so once NaNo's over this will be my main focus.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Bullying, suicide and mentions of violence.

"You..." The words trail off as Arthur tries to wrap his head around Alfred's confession. That Alfred has been lying to him all this time about the green-skinned mutant is bad enough, but to find he'd had a hand in the mutant's death is beyond comprehension. This is the Alfred F. Jones who vetoed carrying lethal weapons, who had argued against sentencing _fucking Braginski_ to capital punishment. There is just no way he could have had a hand in someone's death.

"How?" Arthur asks, his voice more breathy than intended.

Alfred stares at nothing. His thumb runs back and forth over the Vargas emblem. "I just... I just let him die."

Arthur doesn't think he's ever seen Alfred like this, broken. But he knows Alfred holds himself to a higher standard than others, always putting himself in charge of everything and everyone and holding himself to blame if anything goes wrong.

"Not saving something doesn't mean you killed them," Arthur says, his voice taking on a soothing tone he hasn't used in years. "You're not accountable for things you had no hand in."

"You don't know what happened."

"Then tell me."

Alfred flattens his hand against the emblem. "The town I grew up in wasn't exactly big on mutants, like really not big on mutants. Our mayor was elected because of his anti-mutant policies and people stuck Friends of Humanity signs in their front gardens next to their American flags. They hated us.

"My family didn't have the signs but we weren't about to march in any pride parades, you know. And I- I didn't care. Mutants were like this weird alien breed that had no impact on my life so what did it matter when they were hunted down in Russia or imprisoned in Europe or shot in the streets in New York? It had nothing to do with me."

Arthur nods but remains silent, even as he tries to piece together this ignorant past self of Alfred with the present self he knows, the one who had flown to Turkey to stand with protesters and raise morale, the one who had driven two days straight to comfort a little girl who'd written him a letter following a traumatic manifestation.

Alfred inhales. "And then I was one. One day I was completely normal and the next I lifted my dad's car above me head. I don't know who was more horrified, me or him."

"But he didn't hate you," Arthur says slowly. "Your parents loved you still."

"My psyche tell you that?" Alfred asks.

"I caught a flicker of a memory. Your parents hugging you and telling you everything would be alright."

Alfred smiles. "Yeah, they were the best. Still are."

Alfred's memory switches to Arthur's own, of his parents moving him from his shared room with Dylan and Peter to the small bedroom at the back of the house, of them standing in the door frame and suggesting they bring up his dinner so he wouldn't have to eat with the family, of his siblings parting like the Red Sea when he walked into the room. They'd told him they still loved him, but it was a lot harder to believe when they locked him away and wouldn't come within three feet of him.

He leaves those memories behind to listen to Alfred.

"They told me they would support me completely if I decided to come out but I chose not to," Alfred says. "They both had local jobs and I knew they'd get fired, but, in all honesty I was scared. I had a good life. My parents were together and happy and I liked school and had friends and I was hoping to make quarterback one day. I knew the second I came out it would all be over.

"So I didn't. Mom and dad helped me learn how to control my powers and I dropped out of football in case I hurt anyone or someone caught on. But no one did. And that was good, except I wasn't happy any more."

"Why not?" Arthur asks.

Alfred shrugs.

It is unnerving, seeing him in his proud shiny uniform but hunched over and drawn in. Never has he looked more like a lost teenager trying to be all grown up. Arthur wants to crawl to his side, to pull him close and wrap him up and away from the world. He wants to, but can't bring himself to act upon that want.

"I guess..." Alfred mumbles. "I guess I was scared of the people in my town, and myself too. Of what I was." He smiles. "I think mom caught on because she started getting me comics about people with powers."

"And thus an obsession was born."

"It's not an obsession."

"You have a Spider-Man onesie."

"That onesie is awesome and the comfiest thing I own. You're just jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I am still shocked they make it in adult sizes though."

"That's because the people at Marvel are geniuses."

They grin at one another and Arthur suddenly doesn't want to hear any more of Alfred's story. He doesn't want to know about his past or Toris if it means hearing the wobble in his voice or watching that smile crumble. He doesn't want to lose this carefree, happy Alfred he lo- liked.

"You don't have to go on," Arthur says. "Your past isn't any of my business."

"It's already in your head."

"Only bits and pieces. I don't need to know any more."

"Yeah well, maybe you should," Alfred mumbles. "I know about you so it's only fair."

"My past is out there for the world to see. Whether I like it or not." One Google search and everything you could ever want to know about Arthur Kirkland is at your fingertips. It used to upset him, still does in truth, but there is nothing he can do to change it. "And whatever I told you about myself was information given freely. You have no obligation to me."

Alfred tilts his head to the side and blond hair falls into his eyes. He doesn't wear glasses when in uniform and it makes him look younger, more boyish. Lovely.

"Then I want you to know about me. No one else knows, 'cept maybe Kiku but I can never tell, and I figure if I was going to tell anyone it would be you."

Arthur feels his face heat up, and wants to kick himself for reacting to a sweet gesture with the emotional maturity of a preteen.

"I was fourteen when I realised I was a mutant," Alfred goes on. "I hid it for two years and no one suspected a thing. I stayed away from anything mutant related and feigned weakness in gym. It might have been okay but the whole thing changed me. I didn't like my mutant hating friends and I turned down dates because I didn't want to be with someone who I'd have to hide from. I stopped fantasising about being a football player and dropped from the team and focused on studying math and science and dreamed about being Iron Man or the Hulk. I was lost and alone and at my lowest. And then Toris Laurinaitis happened."

Alfred swallows.

Alfred's memory of Toris, of the small green mutant with huge yellow eyes cowering by his locker flashes into Arthur's head. It is an image he's become familiar with in the months since he absorbed Alfred, whether in memories or dreams.

"I remember the first time I saw him. Eric and James heard about him and they hunted him down in the school. He was this scrawny freshman, this kid who was so obviously a mutant hiding under a beanie hat trying not to cry as everyone stared and pointed and told him to get out or die. I'd never seen anyone like him before, someone who looked like what I'd always thought a mutant should look like. And I... I panicked."

Alfred runs a hand through his hair and looks like he himself is trying not to cry.

"Here was this kid, with green skin and three fingers and all alone surrounded by people who hated his guts and my first thought was 'Oh God, what if they find out about me?'."

Alfred's words trigger the memory in Arthur. He is back in that memory of Toris at the locker but this time he feels the pounding of Alfred's heart, his clammy hands, the quickening of his breath.

"How awful is that? I see him being attacked and I'm too self-centred to think about anyone but myself."

"You'd been living in fear of yourself for two years, Alfred," Arthur says, shifting forward so they are closer. "It's understandable that you'd panic."

"I know I was horrible, you don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying. Your thoughts might not have been empathetic but that doesn't make you a monster, it makes you human." Arthur frowns. "Figuratively speaking, I guess."

Alfred hums in reply.

"Do you want to stop?" Arthur asks. "You could go back to the rally. I'll come with you if you'd like." Arthur does not want to leave the safety of the van but for Alfred he will bare the reporters and their cameras.

Alfred raises his head and his gaze meets Arthur's. His blue eyes are watery and Arthur lifts a hand to wipe his eyes, then catches himself before he can do something foolish. Alfred catches the movement but Arthur doesn't know if he realise what Arthur had almost done.

"It's fine," Alfred says before clearing his throat and diving back in. "Toris was everywhere after that, or at least everything was about Toris. Parents pulled theirs kids from school and picketed outside the fences. The school did try to kick him out but the laws meant he could attend so there wasn't much they could do legally speaking, not that it stopped them in other ways. The teachers ignored the bullying and some even did it themselves, like I heard one of the teachers make him stand in front of the class and read out of a book so they could mock his accent. I saw the gym teacher segregate him from the other students and make him run alone behind everyone else and then yell at him for falling behind. They left him to finish alone and when he tried to get back in the gym they'd locked him outside in the freezing cold.

"Toris went through hell everyday of his life and never complained once." Alfred pauses before going on. "He didn't have anyone. I didn't know it then but I found out later that he'd been abandoned as a baby. No one ever adopted him and he got passed around place to place until he ended up in my town. His entire life he never had anyone who loved or cared for him. How awful is that?"

Arthur doesn't say anything. It is awful. For all he'd gone through with Naveen and his mutantcy at least he has love and support. His parents might not have hugged him since he'd put Naveen in a coma but at least they'd been there for him. They could have kicked him out or shunned him but they'd paid for his lawyer and he had brothers and a sister that would always have his back. They aren't perfect but they are better than many could hope for.

"It didn't get better for him either," Alfred says. "The shock of it died down but his locker and books were always defaced and his clothes were always in the toilet after gym or he had another bruise or cut and he was either stuck in the back of the class or put on display at the front. I kept thinking people would get bored and move on or Toris would leave or some big name mutant on the TV would sweep in and save him and... no one did.

"There was the one moment," Alfred says, "about ten months after he'd been there when I bumped into him alone in the corridor after school. I was running and I should have sent him flying, given my strength and all that, but I didn't. He bumped backwards a little and then stared at me with this look of surprise and somehow he knew I was a mutant. I don't know how but he figured it out. But he did and you know what? He didn't tell a single soul.

"He could have. He could have told everyone and given them another target and taken some of the heat off his back but he never said a word. Not even when my friends were torturing him daily."

His voice breaks. Arthur moves closer so he sits opposite Alfred with their knees touching. He reaches out and takes both of Alfred's hands in his and Alfred tangles their fingers together.

"They were fucking awful," Alfred whispers, and Arthur is startled to hear the golden boy swear. "It made me sick the things they did to him, I mean actually physically sick. And I just ignored it all, pretended I didn't see them throw him into the trunk of a car and pretended I couldn't hear them tell him how he should blow his brains out and save them seeing his face again."

Arthur tightens his grip on Alfred. He feels nauseas.

"Mom and dad would ask about Toris sometimes. They developed this soft spot for him because he was a mutant like me and they'd heard scraps about him from their co-workers and neighbours. Now and again they'd ask me if I'd thought about befriending him or if it was still rough for him at school. I'd always lie. I couldn't- I couldn't tell them that what he was really going through and that their son stood by and watched it happen. They'd always thought so much of me and I couldn't ruin who I was in their eyes."

Alfred lifts his bowed head and tears slide down his face. "A month after he found out that I was a mutant Toris killed himself. He stood on the roof of the school and half the students chanted for him to jump. He did. James and Eric and a bunch of others cheered. He was twisted and broken on the ground with blood pouring out of him and they fucking cheered."

Arthur raises his hands to Alfred's face and wipes tears away. "Alfred..."

"I ran home and hid in my room. My parents found me and told me everything would be alright. They told me they'd protect me from the world and they'd never let anyone hurt me." Alfred shakes his head. "I have freaking super strength and heightened healing and durability and they were the ones saying they'd protect me. How fucked up is that?"

"Alfred," Arthur repeats, almost desperately as he cups Alfred's face in his hands and soothes thumbs across his cheeks.

"What?" Alfred snaps and rips away but Arthur reaches after him. "Are you going to tell me it's okay what I did? That Toris' death isn't on me? That it doesn't matter what I did then because I'm a better person now? Is that what you're going to say, Arthur?"

Arthur strokes Alfred's hair.

He has memories of Toris in his head, of those bastards Eric and James making the boy's life a living hell day in and day out. He'd glanced true fear on Toris' face, had caught glimpses of him curled up in a ball on the floor surrounded by violent students, had seen Toris' face blotched and snotty and streaming in tears.

Arthur doesn't know what words he could say to comfort Alfred, doesn't know he if could bring himself to say those words after what he's heard.

Instead he soothes Alfred with gentle caresses and simple touches he himself had yearned for years past.

#

Arthur landed with a thud and lay spread out on the floor in what he was sure was the most ungainly manor possible. Luckily for Alfred's sake the American did not laugh.

"Are you alright?" Alfred asked, squatting down beside Arthur to help him up.

"I'm fine," Arthur grumbled, though he took Alfred's hand. In one swift movement he was on his feet; Alfred's strength still took some getting used to. "Of course I wouldn't have slipped if you didn't leave your comics lying over every inch of the floor."

"They were in a pile until you kicked them everywhere," Alfred said as he knelt down to pick them up.

"The pile was still on the floor. Can't you put them away properly?"

"I don't have any space for them."

"Put them in your wardrobe."

"It's full?"

"Of what?" Arthur asked, striding to the wardrobe. "All your clothes are in the laundry basket and your shoes are under your bed. What could you have in there?" He reached for the handle.

"Don't open-"

Arthur was met with four rows of comics piled waist high slowly toppling towards him. His mouth fell open and then he scrabbled to catch them or close the door but they were already collapsing and taking him down with them. They went everywhere, on Arthur and Alfred, sliding under the beds and dressers and carpeting the room in a garish sea of spandex and bold titles.

When the final comic came to a stop on Arthur's leg, he turned to Alfred, who wore a fittingly sheepish expression.

"Alfred," Arthur said slowly, calmly. "You have a problem."

Alfred laughed awkwardly. "Heh, yeah, I guess."

"No, I'm serious Alfred, this is too much. It's unhealthy."

The smile faded replaced with a frown. "There's nothing wrong with liking comic books."

"This isn't liking comic books, this is an obsession."

"It's a collection."

"But it's not just comic books, you have clothes and posters and films and who knows what else you're hiding from me."

"So what? We all have things that we like. I like superhero stuff, Roderich loves old music books, Yao has his weird Hello Kitty knick knacks and you have your garden you spend hours working on. We all have our own things so don't act like I'm a freak because mine happens to come in the form of superheroes and comic books." Alfred finished by his turning his head away, presumably to hide the hurt showing on his face.

Arthur twisted uncomfortably in his spot on the floor as guilt sat low in his gut. Maybe it was a lot of comic books but Alfred was right; they all had their own possessions and activities they loved for their own reasons. Who was Arthur to judge Alfred?

"I'm sorry," Arthur said. "I didn't mean it. I was just surprised to see you had so many."

"Yeah well it is a lot I suppose." Alfred looked around at the hundreds on the floor. "They really do rack up over the years, huh?"

Arthur laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. "They do. How long have you been reading them for?"

"My mom started getting me them when I was around fourteen."

"What that when you realised your were a mutant?"

"Er, yeah." Alfred fiddled with the comic in his hand. "Anyway they make me feel better about myself, you know? Reading about people who have powers and are idolised instead of persecuted." He shrugged. "I know that sounds stupid."

Arthur smiled. "It doesn't sound stupid at all. Makes perfect sense in fact."

Alfred glanced up, blue eyes shiny behind glasses.

"People love these guys," Arthur went on and held up an Avengers comic, "because they have cool powers and go on crazy adventures and save the world and do all these things they can only dream about. But then go on and hate and fear us for those same reasons? Because our powers come from mutation? It makes no sense."

"I wish we could show them that we're not monsters," Alfred said. "That we're like the heroes in these comics."

Arthur sat up on his heels. "Well why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you show the world that you are a superhero?"

Alfred frowned and tilted his head to the side. "But I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not. I don't do hero stuff."

"Are you... are you kidding me?" Arthur asked, not sure whether he should be laughing or hitting Alfred across the head.

"No, why would I be?"

Arthur settled for laughing. "Alfred, you are the most heroic person I know. You're always running round helping people, lifting morale and being a genuinely nice guy. The reason I hated you so much when we met was because you were bloody Mr Perfect, saving Roderich from that bloody idiot and making everyone fall in love with you."

Alfred's eyes widened. "That's why you didn't like me? Because I was too nice."

"There was more to it than that..."

"Such as?" Alfred asked, a teasing lilt to his tone.

Arthur's hands clammed up. He didn't want to tell Alfred that he hated him as a reaction to his own self loathing and jealousy. Not only was it was petty but it revealed too much about himself that he didn't want to deal with or bring to Alfred's attention. Instead he tried to turn the topic back to Alfred.

"All I'm saying is," he said, hoping Alfred wouldn't catch the waver in his voice, "you can be a hero- a superhero in fact, if you want to be. Hell, you're ten years and one haircut away from being Captain America as it is."

Alfred snorted, but he looked both intrigued and embarrassed.

Arthur leant forward. "Alfred, if you want to show the world our good then start by showing them yours."

Alfred looked down at the comics in his lap, thumbing absently through the pages as the grin on his face disappeared. Arthur could almost feel the mood dissipate.

"I'm not a good person though," Alfred whispered. "I'm not a hero."

"What do you mean?"

Alfred said nothing for a while. Then, "I've not always done what is right. What I should have done."

Arthur debated pressing for details but didn't want to bring Alfred's mood down further. And knowing Alfred he probably meant he hadn't always given old ladies an arm to lean on while crossing the road.

"Then start doing better today. Start being the person you want to be."

Alfred remained silent and brooding.

"Do you have idea how many thousands of scared mutants are out there, Alfred?" Arthur asked. "How many boys and girls who are manifesting and scared of themselves and the people around them? They need someone to look up to, someone to believe in. And yeah, maybe they could find that person in a comic book or in a film but wouldn't it be so much more incredible if they could find that person in real life?"

Arthur leaned over, breathing deeply as nervous hands covered Alfred's. "I know I'm hardly the greatest example but look at what you've done for me these last few months. Before you I was..." Arthur licked his lips, urging himself to go on for Alfred's sake, "I was miserable and scared and lonely, and a bastard, if I'm going to be completely honest. But you, for whatever reason, somehow managed to ignore all that and became my friend and make me," the word clung to Arthur's tongue, "happy.

Alfred lifted his head and met Arthur's gaze. "I make you happy?"

Arthur looked away and busied himself with collecting the comics on his legs.

"Arthur."

Arthur could hear his smile in that one word.

"I'm glad I make you happy, Artie," Alfred said and Arthur glimpsed the pleased smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't get too full of yourself," Arthur said, and immediately regretted his words because he was supposed to be lifting Alfred's spirits and inspiring confidence, not belittling his actions.

Alfred didn't seem to mind and turned the hand under Arthur's to hold his. "You make me happy too, Artie."

Arthur blushed and held his hand for a beat. "We should, er, we should put these away before someone has an accident," Arthur said, tugging his hand free and stacking comics back in the wardrobe.

They tidied away in silence and every time Arthur caught Alfred's eye the other wore a wide smile.

 

 

 

"Which one do you like?" Alfred asked, practically jumping on the spot as he shoved the drawings under Arthur's face.

"Which what?"

"Uniform?"

Arthur took the papers from Alfred and stared at them.

Alfred watched Arthur's expressions as he took them in. The uniform designs were a collaboration between himself, Francis and Feliciano, with Alfred suggesting ideas, Francis tweaking them into something he termed 'wearable' and Feliciano sketching them. Though most of his friends had initially been dubious about his desire to become a superhero they'd more or less come round to the idea and were providing support.

"Well?" Alfred asked after a few minutes of silence and unable to read Arthur's expression. "What d'ya reckon?"

"That's a lot of red, white and blue."

"Yeah I wanted it to be patriotic."

"I can see that."

Alfred slumped. "You don't like them."

Arthur glanced at him and quickly shook his head. "They're lovely, really Alfred. Very you."

"You think?"

"You're the only one I could see in them."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, trying to work out if Arthur was insulting him. He decided to let it slide. "So which one's your favourite?"

Arthur hummed over the sketches. "This one," he said finally.

Alfred smiled. "That was my favourite too." It wasn't the loudest of the uniforms which Feliciano had preferred, or the subtlest that had been Francis' choice, but one that proclaimed American with the Vargas emblem as a centre piece on the chest not to be overlooked.

 

 

 

It turned out Arthur was damn good at needlework, as was Berwald when he wasn't tinkering in his workshop. All his friends helped in making the uniform, measuring Alfred, gathering the materials, creating the emblem, getting Professor Vargas' belated permission to use the emblem, but Arthur did most of the actual stitching and the final touches. He ended up spending more time on it than anyone.

Which was one of the reasons why Alfred wanted Arthur to be the first to see him wearing it.

He dressed in the bedroom with Arthur outside the door, even wearing his contacts so Arthur would get the full effect. He laced up the boots and finished with the gloves before standing up. He desperately wanted to see himself in the mirror but he wanted to share the moment with Arthur more.

"I'm ready," he called.

"About bloody time," Arthur said as he opened the door. Then he stared. His mouth went slack and his eyes widened.

"Do I look alright?" Alfred asked, fiddling with gloves.

"You look... marvellous," Arthur said with a breathy voice. He closed the door behind him and stepped closer. "You look like a superhero."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You could give Captain America a run for his money."

Alfred straightened up. "You really like it?"

"I love it. Do you?"

"I haven't seen it yet."

"Then let me oblige." Arthur picked up the mirror propped against the wall and held it up.

Alfred stared at himself. He looked like a superhero, a proper superhero. He'd been worried it might end up looking more cosplay than a uniform but Arthur and their friends had done a fantastic job. It was tight but not constricting, the colours bold but not overpowering and the emblem neatly on display ready for all the world to see he was mutant and proud. It was exactly what he wanted and he could already envisage himself leaping across buildings, saving dudes and damsels in distress and thwarting bad guys.

"It's perfect," Alfred said. He looked from his reflection to Arthur. "Thank you so much."

Arthur smiled. "I'm just glad you like it."

"No, I mean it Arthur. Without you I wouldn't be wearing this or thinking I could make a change for mutants or mean something to somebody. You make me a better person."

"I just suggested you wear a costume," Arthur mumbled, cheeks already turning red at the praise.

"Hey, remember how you said I made you happy?"

The blush was in full force now. "Vaguely."

"You make me happy too, Artie."

Arthur glanced at Alfred, then the walls, then Alfred again. "I do?"

"More than happy even," Alfred said. And then, whether emboldened because of the uniform or Arthur's warm smile or the adoration building in his chest, Alfred leaned forward and kissed Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sort of got away from me but I like how it turned out.
> 
> Congrats once more to Quatrina who guessed Berwald and Mathias were Forge and Cannonball.
> 
> Forge I can't remember too well since I know him from years back in the comics but he is a Native American mutant who, along with his superhuman talent for inventing, is also a genius with mystical abilities. After breaking up with Storm he had a brief thing with Mystique and that's whereabouts my memories of him fade.
> 
> Cannonball's abilities are jet propulsion - basically meaning he can fly - and while in flight he has superhuman endurance and is impossible to stop. As Quatrina put it in a comment, Cannonball is 'always considered unassuming, simple, and kinda backwoods despite the fact that he was taught how to be a total badass by the likes of Cable'.
> 
> This week's guest stars are Toris and Ivan and I'm gonna try being more vague. Toris is based on a mutant who looks as I've described in this chapter, expect in the X-Men films where he looked human for whatever stupid reason. Ivan is based on someone whose powers have given him a few forms over the years and who is good friends with Spider-man and the Human Torch.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested you can find my tumblr at [Maniac-Elle](http://maniac-elle.tumblr.com/).


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